


Caught Out

by fuzipenguin



Series: Drunken Shenanigans [3]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Aftermath, Confessions, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5265263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of the party... Prowl feels he has apologies to make</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught Out

**Author's Note:**

> No actual tumblr prompt for this one; I had felt the urge to continue to Skyfire/Prowl piece

     Skyfire was surprised by the knock at his door the morning after the party. Wheeljack was the only one who ever visited and the last Skyfire had seen of the engineer, he and Ratchet had been groping a bemused Jazz whom they had immediately captured once he had returned after escorting Prowl from the party. Skyfire hadn’t thought any of the three of them would be functional this early. 

     So he opened the door with a grin on his face and a witty chastisement at the ready, only to rear back with a surprised wingflap when he saw who his visitor was. 

     “Prowl! Sir! What are you… I mean… wha…what can I do for you?” Skyfire sputtered once more off balance in front of the executive officer.

     The second in command inclined his head in greeting, his sensory panels dipping in eerie unison. His black and white colors shone under the hallway lighting, his paint job spotless. He looked even more delect… er… immaculate than last night, and Skyfire’s hands twisted together in front of him against his will. 

     “I hope I did not wake you from recharge. I am here to apologize,” Prowl stated, tone even. His doorwings returned to their high arch, his clear optics fixed on Skyfire’s face. 

     Speaking of functioning this early… how had Prowl recovered from his overcharged state so quickly?

     Skyfire blinked rapidly several times, confused. “Apologize for what, sir?”

     “I was… inappropriate last night. I hope I did not offend you,” Prowl replied, thin lips forming a frown. 

     “I wasn’t offended. Jazz told me someone spiked your drink. There’s no need to apologize,” Skyfire rushed to say, feeling a slight disappointment. Which was silly, really. Did he honestly think Prowl would confess a secret desire for Skyfire? The very idea was laughable. 

     “Nevertheless, I do. High grade interferes with my battle computer. It degrades the barrier between it and the rest of my processor,” Prowl explained stiffly. “I’m glad you understand. I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your offshift.”

     With a backward sweep of his door panels, Prowl abruptly turned and began walking away. Skyfire stared after him for a moment, mouth agape. Then his logic circuits caught up. 

     “Wait!” Skyfire called out. “So some part of your processor meant everything you said last night?!”

     Prowl jerked to a standstill, whirling around. “No! That’s…I don’t…” he said, smooth facade cracking enough for Skyfire to catch a glimpse of panic in those widened optics.  

     Then the tactician snapped his mouth shut, drawing himself up and taking in a deep ventilation. “That is to say… you are an asset to the Autobots. You have a great deal of experience and skill in the sky, and I admire that. No more.” 

     And just like that, the polite mask was back in place. 

     But Skyfire had seen something that made his spark spin faster in its casing and his ventilations speed up with a reckless kind of hope. 

     “Yes!” he blurted out. “If the offer still stands, that is!”

     “Offer?” Prowl questioned, tilting his head to the side. 

     “… to touch your wings,” Skyfire whispered, ducking his head. This was a gamble; if he had read things wrong, Prowl could easily have him sent to the brig for harassment of an officer. “Or your sensory panels, rather. I think… I think they’re beautiful.”

     Praxian frames had always amazed Skyfire. The sensory panels were just as informative in their body language as wings were to fliers. As Prowl’s input to his panels were set to their highest setting in comparison to the other Praxians’ Prowl’s doorwings had always been the most expressive. Well. Maybe not to the casual observer, but Skyfire secretly loved to watch those panels, and their owner, from afar. He had gotten very good at interpreting what each twitch and sway meant. 

     Although maybe not as good as he had thought. Prowl’s doorwings straightened outward from his back, parallel to the floor. They trembled minutely as Prowl blinked rapidly, his optics paling. 

     “I… that’s… you do?” 

     Skyfire nearly reached out and pulled the tactician to him in order to give him a comforting embrace. Prowl had sounded so uncertain. Hadn’t anyone ever told him how good-looking he was? Skyfire bet it was a compliment infrequently heard by Prowl; surely he received many more comments about his intelligence and processing power than his appearance. All of which Skyfire was in awe of, of course… but… those _panels_ …

     “Yes. Absolutely,” Skyfire replied fervently. “I think you are very handsome as a whole, but I… I am quite partial to your doorwings.”

     His own wings dipped in embarrassment at the admission. Skyfire furtively glanced at Prowl’s face to see the second in command staring back at him, expression utterly shocked. 

    “You… I can’t… that’s… I have to go,” Prowl said faintly after starting and stopping a reply several times. Wobbling slightly, he turned and began making his way back down the hallway. Skyfire silently watched Prowl’s form weave about until he reached the end of the corridor and turned the corner. 

     Well. At least Skyfire hadn’t been thrown into the brig… 

 

 ~ End


End file.
